Lady Granger's Legacy
by statetech0
Summary: I couldn't decide between these two premises, so I combined them into a crossover. "Hermione closed her eyes and sighed into the kiss, leaning against him... Peeta looks overwhelmed. Before I know it, he is in my lap, tilting my face back against the headrest as he pushes his lips against mine, kissing me full on the mouth... I am being pushed up against the refrigerator door..."
1. Chapter 1: Love in Older Age

**Chapter 1: Love in Older Age**

Hermione Granger Weasley mingled about the wedding reception, greeting old friends. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and she was pleased with the outcome.

If only her husband had been there to see it.

Ron Weasley had given his blessing for the marriage of their daughter, Rose, to Scorpius Malfoy. Hermione had been proud of him for being the bigger man, especially before he died from a brief fight with cancer. It had been a shock to the whole family, and the wizarding world; he hadn't even reached his mid-life crisis. And Hermione was on the cusp of turning 50 herself. Her two children were grown, and she suspected that her son, Hugo, would be married himself before long.

Rose's wedding had been hosted on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, which had probably been the most controversial thing about the wedding, after the choice of groom. But if her in-laws didn't initially go along with it, the combination of Scorpius's charm and Hermione's imposing threats of hexes won them over. Only Molly seemed disappointed that one Weasley had not gotten married at the Burrow.

In a corner of the grounds, Hermione saw him: Draco Malfoy, standing off by himself. Her heart strangely went out to him, and since they had not had the chance to speak at the wedding, she approached. His wife, Astoria, had been unable to make the nuptials due to health concerns, so at least Hermione had someone to commiserate with. Seeing her coming, Draco started and turned away.

"Draco, please don't go." He turned back towards her, looking pensive. "We've never really spoken, have we? Yet we have so much in common now."

"We don't have that much in common." He couldn't look her in the eye. "Our children do, but not us." He paused, searching for the right words. "It isn't you, not who you are, or who your parents were, don't misunderstand me. All that has gone, I realize that I was wrong. So, so wrong." He smiled slightly. "You remind me of the thing I could have had, if only it had been different."

"What thing, Draco?"

He looked around. "Astoria will be awake soon upstairs. I always make her tea; she says the nurse doesn't do it as well. I have to go. Goodbye... Hermione." He walked off, leaving her standing and staring into space. Surely not? She walked slowly back to the marquee, lost in her thoughts.

* * *

Starting out in their careers, Scorpius and Rose didn't have much between them, and though he came from a wealthy family, Scorpius wasn't due his inheritance until at least one parent passed away.

That came sooner than anyone had expected, only a few months after the wedding.

Draco never said exactly what ailed Astoria, except to explain that it was a struggle for her to get out of bed. Apparently, she felt terrible for missing the wedding. But at least she was there, watching from a window. Poor Ron could not have said the same.

The day of Astoria's funeral was overcast, cold and wet. Hermione traveled from Ottery St. Catchpole to be with her daughter and son-in-law. Draco was numb as his wife was laid to rest in the Malfoy family cemetery. Rose had mentioned to her mother that Draco had offered to leave aside a plot of land for both her and Hermione, if they wished; he knew the Weasley clan had their own plot of land. The thought was so morbid, never mind early, that Hermione had laughed and said that she would think about it.

After the service was over, Scorpius helped Rose back to the Manor. Draco was left alone by the gravesite. Hermione approached and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She knew how it felt to lose a spouse, all too well.

Draco glanced back to her. "You wanna see something?"

Taken aback, Hermione could only nod.

Draco led her back into the Manor. They passed by the foyer where Rose could be heard fixing tea, and climbed the staircase. It wasn't until they were halfway up and turning onto a particular floor that Hermione remembered where she had seen this space before. And it made her feel very nervous.

When they approached the wide set of doors, she knew. But before she could say anything, Draco had thrown back the doors and Hermione could only gape.

The drawing room looked absolutely nothing like she remembered it. Instead of dreary hardwood and drab colors, the whole space had been upholstered and carpeted. The walls had been repainted in vibrant colors. The curtains were down, allowing a beam of sunlight that was now peeking through the clouds to stream through the windows.

"You... you changed it," Hermione breathed.

Draco laughed bitterly. "How could I otherwise? You aren't the only person who suffered bad memories here." He stared at his feet. "I hate everything about that night, and even more that I did nothing to stop it. I wasn't even that invested anymore, but I couldn't leave because I was scared. Everything became more real when you were hurt."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Was Draco actually apologizing for her torture? Merlin, he really had changed. She had suspected he was not the same mean-spirited boy she knew back in school, when he had expressed no qualms regarding Rose and Scorpius's engagement. Even Ron had grumbled for all of a minute before acquiescing. Hesitantly, Hermione drifted closer, and ticked up Draco's chin with her finger, to make sure he was looking her right in the face.

She smiled sadly. "I forgive you." And leaving him with that, she headed downstairs for a cup of tea.

* * *

It had been months of badgering, but finally, Rose wore her down. The move seemed to make sense, in the long term: her children were already there, and intended to build their own house on the expansive acreage sometime in the future. And Hermione was already visiting over there several times a week. After discussing it with Hugo for a second opinion, Hermione decided to sell her house in Ottery St. Catchpole - the house she had spent her married years in and where she gave birth to her babies - and move into Malfoy Manor.

She arrived with her suitcases to find the main hall of the Manor bustling with activity. The Malfoys still kept a decent-sized staff of house elves, but Hermione had noted that the family had obeyed her reform legislation to the letter. But, now the house elves were running around and celebrating, and seemed to be packing themselves.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked one elf who passed.

"Good day, Mistress Rose's Mummy!" the elf said. "Winky has been giving clothes," and she proudly showed Hermione the muffler in her hands. "All the elves have been, missus. We is free! Old Master Malfoy says so!"

Hermione gaped, her heart going into her throat. Old Master Malfoy was a reference to Draco, so that meant... Beaming, she flew up the stairs.

She found him in his study, going over some papers. He looked up when he saw her enter, guessing what the wide smile on her face was about. He circled the desk. "I thought it would be good welcome gift to you. Besides, we have magic to do it all, and Rose cleans just as much herself..."

He didn't get any farther than that. Squealing, Hermione threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the lips. It took a moment or two for her to feel arms slide about her waist, as Draco started kissing her back. After several moments, they broke apart.

Hermione cheeks went pink. "I forgot myself. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry..." Her rambling halted when Draco flicked a finger under her chin, closing her mouth. Then his mouth covered hers. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed into the kiss, leaning against him. Their tongues swam into and then back out of each other's mouths, as the passionate kiss turned into a flurry of little pecks, both of them smiling. Grinning, Hermione draped her arms about Draco's neck and kissed him again...

...And before long, it seemed, she was kissing him passionately, while wearing her wedding dress, and standing under a marquee surrounded by her cheering friends and family. Hermione had not expected to wed again following the death of her husband, never mind fall in love. But Draco had wooed her. Rose and Scorpius were thrilled over the idea, as it meant Hermione would stay at the Manor permanently.

And Hermione had decided that, although she would always love Ron, someday, she would be buried beside her new, second husband.


	2. Chapter 2: Hundreds of Years Later

**Chapter 2: Hundreds of Years Later**

**Prim's POV**

I rise early from my bed and leave Mother to sleep in. I begin mixing and making the potions and medicines needed for the day's work. A Healer's work is never done.

My name is Primrose Everdeen. I am 19 years old and live in the Seam portion of District 12, the poorest district in Panem. I am training to be a Healer, like my mother before me. My older sister, Katniss, is a huntress, bagging and trading game illegally at the black market in Town.

I have no shortage of customers. Most of them are Seam miners, wounded in their line of work, with a smattering of non-prejudiced Merchants thrown in. But my best customer has wealth and means even higher than this, and I suspect I know who has just knocked on my door. I open it to see that telltale crop of ashy blond hair.

"Good morning, Peeta! Come on in! Your order is ready."

Peeta Mellark grew up as the youngest Merchant son of the Baker in Town. Seven years ago, he was Reaped to be a tribute in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, a fight-to-the-death competition between two dozen tributes from all the districts in which only one Victor can emerge. Peeta was crowned the third Victor from District 12, and has been living comfortably in Victors' Village ever since. But at a slight cost: the use of his right leg. Some of it had to be amputated below the knee, and he has used crutches from that day to this. For his bad leg, I give him pain medication and a dosage of morphine every week. He is also fitted with a prosthetic leg, though it has seen better days. We have become close friends. And although I have never proven it, I suspect that my normally romance-averse sister Katniss has a crush on him, from the way she gets all flustered whenever he is around. My sister gets annoyed when she is flustered, and it is amusing to see. At least she has someone to pine for. My love, Rory Hawthorne, was Reaped for the Games two years after Peeta. Though Peeta mentored him the best he could, he was killed.

Peeta and I enter the kitchen, and I begin preparing his medicine package, gesturing for him to take a seat. He declines, opting instead to lean against the table. "How is your mother?" he asks in a whisper.

I appreciate his discretion. Mother took ill several years ago, though she has never been quite the same since the death of my father, when I was a little girl. She is bedridden, almost comatose, and Katniss seems to be waiting for her to die. Mentally, she has died. It is her body that refuses to catch up. But the Peacekeepers can't know that. If they did, Mother would be buried and Katniss and I might be cast out of our home. People of District 12 don't come of age until they are 21, so I would still be eligible for the Community Home. The law doesn't make a lot of sense, as many of my peers can marry when they are 18 and have aged out of the Reaping. Some marry even earlier, though this doesn't happen often.

"She is the same, thank you. Nothing has really changed. I can tell Katniss is worried." I notice Peeta brighten a little when I say my sister's name, but I file it away for later. "If the Peacekeepers discover her, our business might be closed. I don't know if I could make enough money for us to try and keep the house."

"You could try to marry well," Peeta shrugs, and I know he means nothing insensitive by this. "Your mom grew up as a Merchant, you look like one. I know plenty of boys who would be thrilled to marry you."

I blush, smiling at the compliment. "There was only one man I ever wanted to marry, and he's gone," I murmur.

"Rory," Peeta says knowingly. I nod. "I'm sorry." His face creases in thought for a moment. "Hey, what if I forwarded you girls some of my winnings?"

My head snaps up, my mouth falling open in shock. "Your winnings? Peeta, no -"

"Why not? I get my stipend every month; I can set aside a sum for you and your sister. Cash transaction only; I'll hand deliver it so as not to leave a paper trail. The Peacekeepers will never have to know."

I sit down heavily in a chair. It certainly is a generous offer. And even though my sister is far more averse to charity than I am, I can browbeat her into accepting it when she eventually does find out. Plus, it would allow us to pay the mortgage, maybe bribe a few Peacekeepers when our mother ultimately does pass. I set my jaw, and nod.

"Thank you, Peeta. Tomorrow, I am going to write to the Capitol and request that you be fitted with a new prosthetic leg. You deserve it, and that sum could more than cover it."

Peeta looks overwhelmed. Before I know it, he is in my lap, tilting my face back against the headrest of the chair as he pushes his lips against mine, kissing me full on the mouth.

I only stiffen for a moment, feeling as though I am betraying my sister, before closing my eyes. "Hmmmmm..." Winding my arms about him, I return and deepen the kiss, savoring it as my very first. When Peeta releases me, I smirk in amusement, and swat at him.

"Ain't you supposed to ask a girl first before kissing her?"

Peeta smirks back. "Can I...?"

I don't let him finish, yanking his face down to mine and kissing him back.

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

The hem of my blue Reaping dress swishes around my hips, as I march up the hill through the Seam on my way home from trading in the Hob. I got a good haul today, and even some left over meat for tonight's dinner. Prim will be pleased. I let myself into our simple home without knocking - and stop dead at what I find.

My baby sister Primrose is seated in a chair with Peeta Mellark, the Victor and Baker's son, across her lap, furiously and openly kissing him. If the sight of my little sister, barely a woman, kissing a man doesn't knock the wind out of me, the fact that she is kissing... _him_ does. I can only gawp until the pair notice my presence and snap apart, their arms still around each other. Peeta nearly falls over in his haste to scramble out of Prim's lap.

"Katniss!" Prim breathes, flushing. "Peeta and I... we..."

I frown. "If you want to eat his face, Primrose, either be upfront about it, or do it behind closed doors. That's what bedrooms are for." I stalk to the refrigerator.

"Katniss, I didn't mean to go behind your back! It only just happened today!"

"She's right," Peeta says. "We didn't mean to make you jealous."

"Jealous?" I pounce, snapping around to glare at them; Peeta is behind me. "Of _what_? Why don't you grow up...?"

Next second, I am being pushed up against the refrigerator door and Peeta Mellark conquers my mouth with his own. He is kissing the life out of me. My instinct is to push him away, but my traitorous fingers find purchase on his chest and tug him closer instead. "Mmmmmmmm..." My leg quickly hitches around his torso, cradling him closer.

After several moments of frantically making out, Peeta and I break apart. I ignore how Primrose is staring at us, eyes shining. My breath coming in heavy pants, my breasts heaving, my flushed and thoroughly kissed mouth drops open enough to say:

"Would you mind giving a gal a little warning next time? Or asking?"

Peeta laughs, finding this oddly funny, but encircling his arms about my waist, pulls me tight and close against him. "Katniss?"

"Y... yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "_May_ I kiss you?" I correct his grammar. I lazily drape my arms about his neck, playing with the nape of his hair. "I suppose so." My heart alights, and I don't even try to hide my grin as Peeta kisses me again, and I kiss him back.

We soon become very involved, and Peeta suddenly sweeps me off my feet and carries me off towards Mother's bedroom. Primrose gazes after us knowingly.

"Where are you going?"

"Primrose, hush," I get out from under Peeta's plundering lips. "I am the lady of the house; this is woman's work." And Peeta and I disappear into the bedroom.

He throws me down on the empty space beside Mother's prone, unresponsive form. In the dim light, still kissing in furious pecks, we shed each other of our clothes. I spread my legs wide, nestling Peeta between me and aligning our bodies. I guide Peeta's manliness to my wet, throbbing maidenhead and permit him to push inside. He rocks against me, building up a rhythm, so that the bed dangerously creaks and sways. If my mother was any more alert, I would be dying of shame that I am losing my virginity - becoming intimate with a man - in my mother's bed.

"Hmmmm... Mmmmmm... Uhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh!" I let out tiny mewls, whimpers and cries as Peeta thrusts inside me faster and faster. Kissing him deeply, I finally come apart, and he soon spills all he has into me.

And that is how the youngest great-great-great-great-grandson of Draco Malfoy and the eldest great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Hermione Granger Weasley came together, had sex, fell in love, and would eventually marry.


End file.
